Overwatch: Fears and Advice
by The Pyromancer
Summary: Fareeha just wanted to blow off some steam at the gym after a fight with her girlfriend but an old man starts to antagonize her leading to a spar. It might not end up solving her problem, but she plans to enjoy the distraction anyways. If only the old man would stop talking for a moment... AU. One shot story.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Overwatch.

 **Overwatch: Fears and Advice**

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Fareeha hopped back and forth for a moment, enjoying the rapid movements before planting her feet solidly on the mat and twisting into a punch that impacted the worn out black punching bag in front of her. Another punch quickly followed. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth and so on. A flurry of frustration fueled blows rained down on the punching bag. The thing hardly moved despite the amount of force she was putting into each hit but that just made her determined to keep hitting. It was something she could focus on, something to keep her mind off…other things…

"Damn it," muttered Fareeha under her breath. She didn't usually let things get under her skin like this. She'd weathered the sexual harassment she'd received while in the military. She'd dealt with the inflated egos of the engineers she now managed working in the private sector. She'd lived estranged from her mother, her only family, for years.

But now she'd hurt the person whose opinion mattered the most to her and she didn't know what to do. Walking away from the conversation to head to the gym and distract herself from the argument was probably not the healthiest decision to make, but it was extremely satisfying. At least in spurts.

"Did the bag kill your dog or something?" asked an amused voice. Fareeha sent one last blow into the bag before turning around to face the source of the voice. Standing before her was a man who was neither remarkable or completely average. He was well built, stood straight and carried himself with the ease of a man much younger than he probably was. His hair had gone gray but seemed to be short by choice not by hair loss. He had on goggles, tinted red, a scar visible on his forehead and wrinkles framing a rather stern looking face that was stitched with scars. The man was wearing black gym shorts and a blue t-shirt with a white 76 on it, a gym bag in hand.

Fareeha gestured to the punching bag. "That would be between me and the bag, now wouldn't it?" she asked acidly. She instantly regretted the tone and took a deep breath, both to recover after her recent exertion and to calm her angry mind. She was slightly calmer when she spoke next. "Do you need this? I should be done in a bit."

"I don't think you're going to get what you want from that bag," commented the man. He gestured over to an empty mat in the gym for sparring. "How about you join an old man for a spar? It's much more satisfying to hit a person than an object. Objects take it without complaint and that's frustrating."

Fareeha looked at the man, puzzled at the invitation. Of all the people using the machines and spread out through the large room, he'd just randomly decided to pick her for a spar? One of the mats was even currently in use by a group of three men who were taking turns fighting each other. He could've just asked the free person. She eventually gave a shrug. "Sure, why not."

The man started to walk towards the mat. Fareeha picked up her own gym bag from nearby and followed him. "You've got the look of a fighter about you," he commented. "The type that hates to lose."

"I might be," replied Fareeha. "What about you?"

"Similar," replied the man. They both dropped their bags to the ground and got onto the mat, facing each other. The man fell into a combat stance similar to that of a boxer. "You ready?"

Fareeha fell into her own stance which was slightly wider, better for kicking. "Ready." She replied with a nod, focusing on the man. Brief thoughts of her lover's face, framed in golden locks of blonde hair and a hurt expression on a face that usually only smiled for her. Fareeha gritted her teeth at the thought, trying to push it to the back as she focused on the fight. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to do so quick enough as the man lunged towards her with lightning speed. She blocked his first punch, backing up and dodging the second. As she took another step back and blocked his third punch he suddenly moved in really close, pushing his arm against her while sweeping behind her legs with one of his. In an instant she was down on the mat, her arms slapping against the mat as she corrected her fall to make sure nothing important struck hard.

"I thought you said you were ready," commented the man, making no move to help her up. "If you're fighting me while distracted you're going to keep ending up on your back on the mat."

Fareeha scowled. "That was luck."

"Then you're ready to try again?" asked the man.

"Yes," replied Fareeha. The man held out his hand to her to help her up. She took it, grabbing onto his forearm as he did the same. She stood up, nodded thanks and then they both turned around and got their bearings.

Once they were sufficient distance from each other they turned around and fell into their stances again. Fareeha was mildly surprised as the man fell into a stance similar to hers. Her surprise turned into amusement and she found herself grinning at the sight. It was going to be so satisfying when she knocked the smugness out of him and sent him onto his back. The image was almost able to distract her. Almost.

"Ready?" asked the man, his expression still stern but his tone amused.

"Ready," replied Fareeha. This time she was the one to initiate the fight. She moved forward and lashed out with a quick kick. The man easily blocked the kick. Fareeha dropped her foot and sent a flurry of punches towards the man. He blocked all of them but had to take a step back to make distance between them. Fareeha pressed forward, lashing out with quick kicks which the old man blocked.

She thought she was doing well, but then the man opened his mouth. "So, trouble with your girlfriend?" Fareeha was so surprised by the question that she hesitated for a fraction of a second in the middle of a kick. The man took hold of her leg in that moment, moving forward and once more flipping her onto her back.

She looked up and growled at the man. "How'd you know that?"

The man shrugged. "Lucky guess. You've got that tattoo on your back that was visible while you were swinging at the punching bag."

"So you guessed I was in a relationship from that?" asked Fareeha, surprised. The tattoo in question was one that had two interlocked female symbols side by side. This old man was either extremely intuitive or completely crazy. Possibly both.

The man waved away the question. "I swear I won't judge, but you're not going to focus better by beating up on punching bags and old men. Why not talk instead?"

Fareeha hesitated before taking his hand once more. "What makes you think I want to talk about it?" The old man helped her to her feet.

"I think you don't want to talk about it, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk about it," he replied, walking over to his bag and pulling out a water bottle. He took a drink from it as Fareeha walked over to her own bag and did the same.

"What makes you think it's trouble with my girlfriend?" asked Fareeha.

"Well, if you've got a lover you're not fighting with, you'd be talking to her, not beating things up."

"And if I'm single?"

The man just smiled at that. "You might not be my type, but I can tell an attractive person when I see them."

Fareeha was taken aback a moment. "Wait, does that mean you're gay?"

"So, what did you fight with your girlfriend about?" asked the man, ignoring the question.

Fareeha averted her gaze from the man's. "Something stupid…"

"If it was stupid then it wouldn't have been a fight," pointed out the man.

"Well…I'm a lesbian, but Angela, she's…," started Fareeha, hesitating.

"Bisexual," finished the man.

Fareeha nodded. "Yeah. We've been dating for over a year, and she told me about a month after we started to date but well…"

"You were self-conscious of it."

"Yes, I was," admitted Fareeha. "She could have anyone, man or woman. She could have a regular life, one without me. She could come to her senses at any moment and leave me."

"So you don't trust her."

Fareeha glared at the man. "Of course I do!"

"Oh? It doesn't sound like that to me. If she says she loves you and you still think she'd leave you, then you're not trusting her. Honestly, if you're going to act like that you should probably just leave her, for both of your sakes."

"That isn't happening," growled Fareeha.

"Then you'll just have to get over it," replied the man, scowling back at Fareeha. "You're going to do nothing but hurt both of you if you continue to be self-conscious like that." The man finally averted his gaze and his voice lowered to a whisper. "I know that all too well…"

The two just stood there silently facing each other in the middle of the gym for several moments. Around them the gym was a whirlwind of activity and the accompanying noises. Eventually the moment was broken by the man bending down and picking up his gym bag. "Well, I don't think either of us will put up a good fight at this point. Plus, you've got something to do I'd think," said the man, standing back up.

Fareeha picked up her own gym bag and nodded to the man. "You're probably right. Thank you for the advice."

"What advice? I was just being a crotchety old man who wanted to beat a pretty young woman in a fight. I'd hardly say that qualifies for thanks," commented the man, turning around and walking off towards the men's locker room before Fareeha could say anything else. On the back of his bag was a silver pin that was a circle with a small section of the top sectioned off from the main part and colored gold. Inside the circle were two slightly curved prongs coming up from the top part stopping right before connecting to the top part of the pin. Fareeha took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. Shouldering her bag, she headed into the locker room, wiping down quickly and getting the rest of her stuff from where she'd put it.

With her stuff in hand Fareeha walked out of the gym and down the street. One of the perks to where she lived with Angela was its closeness to a gym, which they both frequented. As she walked down the streets, the cooling air and sky painted orange by the setting Sun warning of the nearing night, her thoughts processed the conversation she'd just had.

Her fight with Angela hadn't been anything new in its content, just in the intensity they'd both struck at each other. The old man had been right though, this fight had been her fault. Angela was who she was, and that had made her jealous and paranoid. But she should've also remembered, Angela was Angela and she wasn't likely to ever act like the dark voice in the back of her head said she would. Then she'd run away to the gym and refused to confront the real problem.

Well, now Fareeha had been forced to confront the problem. She knew what she had to do, but knowing that was the easy part. It was going through with the knowledge that would be much harder.

While Fareeha's thoughts had spun round and round in her head, her feet had taken her directly to the steps of the apartment she shared with Angela. She took another deep breath and reached out, opening the door and walking in. On the coat rack in the entry way was Angela's jacket which had a small silver and gold pin attached to it. Inside the main room Angela was sitting on the couch, a book in hand. She ignored Fareeha as she walked in and closed the door behind her. She knew she probably deserved the treatment, but it still hurt none the less. Fareeha put her bag down by the doorway and looked back at Angela.

"I'm sorry," started Fareeha. Angela didn't respond or even look up from her book at her, but she was pretty sure she was paying attention anyways. "I shouldn't have been jealous like that of your co-workers. I was being insecure and not trusting you. I'm sorry about that."

At that Angela slowly closed her book, marking the page with a bookmark and setting it down on the couch next to her. She looked up at Fareeha, her face still blank of expression. "So, you know what you said hurt me?"

"Yes," replied Fareeha simply.

Angela gave a sigh. "I'm sorry I blew up at you earlier, but it hurt. I'd almost convinced myself when we first started dating that you didn't need to know that I was bi." Fareeha felt a twinge in her heart at the notion, but stayed quiet. Angela's face turned pained. "But I decided I trusted you, and I didn't want to hide who I was." She paused briefly. "Sorry if this sounds like I'm trying to guilt you into feeling bad."

Fareeha shook her head. "No, I agree. Can you forgive me?"

Angela finally smiled and stood up. She walked over to Fareeha, arms outstretched and pulled her into a hug. "I do," replied Angela. The two kissed and smiled at each other.

"I love you, all parts of you and I won't be insecure about this anymore," swore Fareeha.

"That's all I ask," said Angela. Her nose scrunched up and she pushed Fareeha away a bit. "You do smell quite a bit right now though…"

"Sorry," apologized Fareeha. "I wanted to get back as quickly as possible so I kind of skipped the shower."

Angela separated from Fareeha and then with a smile gently grabbed her arm and led her across the apartment. "Then how about we fix that?"

Fareeha smiled back. "I'd love nothing more."

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 **Author's Note:** I don't play Overwatch, but I was inspired by all the art of Pharah and Mercy and have fallen in love with this pairing. I hope I did well writing it. I was also inspired by the "Dads and Lesbians" version of the logo. ;)


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